Fire and Blood
by valonqar
Summary: "There is to be a rebellion. Lord Malfoy boasts to all of the return of his Dark Lord. People are afraid, as they should be.The realm is being shadowed in darkness. You heard the witch's prophecy. We fight or we die, King Harry. There is no other way."


**A/N: alright. SO. This is kind of weird, but give it a chance. Most of my inspiration for this story was from George R.R. Martin's _A Song of Ice and Fire_ series, or _Game of Thrones._ There's some Harry/Ginny, Dramione, Ronmione, and many more.  
>Please review!<br>I own nothing apart from a few plot changes that will be made wayyy later on!**

_xxx_

_There is no light anywhere. It does not exist. _

_It is as if he has been plunged into a world of darkness, the only things existing being him and the black surrounding him. There is no sound but the sound of his own laboured breathing, nothing for him to feel but his own skin. He can't even feel the ground beneath him, and somewhere in the back of his mind he registers that there must not be any at all. He does not know what that means - perhaps he is floating - all he knows is that wherever he is, he does not like it._

_He hears it then. It is so faint, he is not even sure he can call it a whisper. It is more the echo of a whisper, so quiet he has to strain his ears to even notice it. But then the sound begins to build, and he recognizes the voice quickly. A woman's voice, shaky and frightened, trembling with fear and another emotion he finds he cannot recognize. Awe, is it? Or is it something else entirely, something like revulsion? He cannot tell, and in all honesty he does not exactly care at that moment. What is more important are the words she is speaking, the ones he has heard in his head a thousand times. The words of Sybill._

_The words of the witch._

_Her voice grows louder now, stronger, and it feels as if the darkness is caving in on him, entering his body, tearing him apart from the inside out. The words are like worms, slithering into his ears, picking apart at his brain. Where before there was nothing, now there is only pain, red-hot pain that turns the darkness around him into fire, burning so bright into his eyes that he finds he can see no better than he could when the world was black._

_He has been here before. He knows what is coming next. The sharp pain in his forehead, burning him worse than the tongues of the flames. His body splitting, being torn in half, ripped to pieces, screams pouring out from his mouth like some form of prayer. And the words, the words that haunt his every living moment._

_"... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ..."_

He wakes.

_xxx_

The windows of his chambers were opened, and the cool morning air brought a bright red flush to the boy King's face. The cold was coming soon, he knew. It had been naught but a moon ago that the sun had constantly been warming the earth, but then it rarely seemed to come out from behind the clouds. Dumbledore had predicted that they would have less than a fortnight before the snows came, and the man was rarely wrong. Harry could only hope that the realm was well prepared for the coming winter - if they were not, it would be in his hands to clean it up, and for that he certainly was not prepared.

It has been no more than a year since the murder of his parents, and he was still not fit for the role of King. At seven-and-ten, he was no more than a boy, and the kingdom of Hogwarts was as vast as it was wild. It was a title not suited for a boy of his age - because physically, that was all he was. Harry liked to think of himself as almost a man grown, but his lanky body and childish features made it impossible for him to be seen as anything but a little boy who liked to put on his father's clothes and play pretend. He was only lucky the use of a wand did not require him to be excessively strong. Had they fought their battles physically, as the warriors of the past had, he would be of no use to the kingdom. However, talent with a wand did not make a boy any more a man, and no amount of intelligence could strengthen his muscles or allow him to grow just a few more inches.

And yet, he knew he was wise beyond his years. Although his physical presence was lacking, his mother had always told him that he had a mind as sharp as any steel, and as wise as Merlin's himself. An exaggeration, Harry knew, but he liked to think that it wasn't far from the truth. Even more, he had gone through more than any boy had, from the murder of his parents, to his rise to king, and then the prophecy...

_No_. He would not think of that. It was not a prophecy, it was the ramblings of a mad woman. Sybill had been a malicious old crone, known throughout the kingdom as a pest and a worshiper of the dark. She was banned from all the major cities and ports of Hogwarts, as an attempt to stop the evil tales she whispered into the ears of the innocent, the tales that always came true. A deamon, a devil, and _banished_. And yet somehow she had managed to slip past his guards, as if she had floated through the walls, and whisper those words into his ears as he slept, filling his future with her dark predictions. Harry was only lucky she had been caught and executed before she could finish the prophecy. That way it couldn't come true, Dumbledore had _sworn _it so, and he believed each and every word that came from from his council's mouth.

Even so, the words of his incomplete prophecy burned through his mind like the fire that consumed him in his dreams. It was impossible, he knew it. The Dark Lord had died along with Harry's parents, at Harry's own hand. How it had happened he did not know, but when he awoke weeks later they had proclaimed Lord Riddle vanquished and named Harry Potter the King of Hogwarts in his father's place. It has been a time of grief, yes, but also a time of celebration. The King and Queen were dead, but the Dark Lord was defeated and a new king had risen into power. A boy king, but a king regardless.

And every king needed a queen.

Harry had put off marriage for a year now, but as he regained his consciousness he remembered what day he was awakening to. His eight-and-tenth name day. The day he had agreed with Dumbledore to choose a wife.

It had seemed obvious for a long while what woman he would pick. Her name was Cho, a maid of the House Ravenclaw, equal in age to he and in posession of a beauty far beyond that of any girl he had ever seen. She had come to the capital of Hogsmeade when they were four-and-ten for a festival of unity hosted by his parents, and as soon as he had laid eyes on her he was smitten. It had been her smile, he remembered. She had smiled larger than anyone he had ever known, save for his mother, and when she had smiled she had looked him right in the eyes. It had been as if she was telling him something, letting him in on some little secret that would be theirs and theirs alone. Harry had told his mother that very day of his plans to wed her, but the woman had only laughed and patted down his hair.

"_You have many years before you must start worrying about such things, my son." _Her eyes had been full of amusement, and although he knew she was being kind the boy could not help but to be embarrassed. _"Do not worry of such things as love or marriage. You are a child. Enjoy it while you still can."_

And he had done so. He had forgotten about Cho and her shiny black hair and her secret smile, had hardly even blinked an eye when she married a knight of House Hufflepuff, Ser Cedric. He was a good man, from a good family, and he was _older_. Harry was not old enough to wed, not yet. He would stay young for as long as he could, and he would be happy in doing so.

That was until his parents had died, he had been crowned King of the Realm, and producing an heir was to be the top of his priority.

Without an heir, the reign of family Potter died with him. It was essential that he find a wife and bear a child, else he create anarchy and chaos amongst his people after his death. It was not as if it would be hard for the King to find a wife, especially one as young as Harry. Lords and Ladies were scrambling to get their daughters down to the capital, desperate to win the favor of the royal family and hopefully make a match for their daughter. But the King could not just marry _anyone,_ Dumbledore had told him, and he knew he must make sure the match was both beneficial for himself, and for the realm. He had to marry a lady from one of the Pure families if he wanted to keep control. If the Malfoy's had a daughter as well as their son he would marry her, but the only child to speak of was Draco, a knight of his King's Army, and he did not plan on marrying _him_ any time soon.

A light rap on his chamber door made him aware of the arrival of his council. The old wizard had a very distinct knock, one that Harry could recognize easily after his many years of training with the man. Dumbledore had arrived in Hogsmeade long before the King was born, an ancient man even then. He had become close with his father's father, another King Harry, taking the role of the man's council and guiding him to being known as one of the greatest rulers the realm had ever seen. He had done the same for King James after that, and in the meantime had taught Harry all he knew about magic and ruling. Even though he did not wear the crown, or sit in the throne, it was known to all that the council was the true ruler of the kingdom. He said, and the king followed.

Upon opening the door, Harry allowed his face to break out into a small smile despite himself. "I'm glad you came so soon, Dumbledore. This is about the marriage choice today, I expect? I was thinking Lady Ginevra Weasley would be a fine choice. Look at all the children her mother had - only a curse from Merlin himself could stop that girl from producing an heir." The boy King stopped himself, looking down at his hands before finding his voice once more. "I...I had the dream again. The one where I burn, I mean. The one with...with Sybill." The smile had slipped off his face ever-so-slightly, but he still tried to keep up a positive air. It was never good to get the wizened wizard into an unhappy mood, that much he had learned.

However, on this occasion he seemed unable to care less about the prophecy dream, giving Harry nothing but a small grunt in recognition that he had heard him at all. The man wandered towards the window, staring out on the vast expanse of Hogsmeade with his back to the King.

It seemed like days before he spoke, and the sound of his voice was nearly enough to create a sigh of relief from the younger wizard behind him. His voice was weak, shakier than Harry had ever heard it. For the first time he sounded his own age, well older than any man should ever live to be, and he could not help but feel a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"There has been an owl from the North." There was a fear, a desperation in his voice that had never been heard before, one that mirrored what he had heard in the voice of the prophetess in his bed so long ago. It gave him the shivers, although he did not say a word, tongue tied in fear of what was coming. "An owl from Lord Malfoy at the Manor. He asks of his son's well-being, and would like to know if Ser Draco is doing his duty well as a member of the King's Army.

"He also brings us news. There is to be a rebellion. House Slytherin's impatience grows with each day - Lord Malfoy boasts to all of the return of his Dark Lord, and that the Army of Death is to be reborn once more." Harry's breath caught in his throat, his mind unable to process anything but those words. The Dark Lord, risen, beyond the grave, _alive_, rebelling. It was impossible to think of, because he was dead, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been killed by Harry himself but a year ago. He couldn't be alive, there was no chance of it. Harry almost said so, when Dumbledore raised his voice once more. "He says that they have gained the support of the Forest Giants, the Sea People, and the Dementors of Mount Azkaban. They want their Lord on the throne. They want you to burn, and they want Hogwarts to burn with you."

It was a jape. A cruel joke, set up by Dumbledore and the men of his castle to scare him. They thought it was funny, he knew it. They thought they could frighten him like the little boy they saw him as, make him wet his breeches and curl up in a ball in the corner like he would have when he was a child. That had to be it, so Harry could not figure out why the old man's face looked so serious as he turned towards him, why it appeared he had aged a hundred years over the past night. It did not explain the crumpled parchment in his hand, the writing smudged and dotted with what appeared to be someones blood. The only explanation was that it was true, that the Dark Lord really _was_ back, that there was to be an uprising, but that would mean...

"House Slytherin is taking arms against the kingdom. The Dark Lord is back, and we are all doomed." It was whispered under his breath, not meant for anyone but himself, but he knew his council heard it when he felt the pruned hands gripping his face, forcing his emerald eyes up to meet the pale blue ones of his teacher.

"No, Harry. Do not think that, or they have already won." He had never heard the voice so sharp, cutting through the crisp morning air like the steel of their ancestors. "You defeated him but one year ago, remember that. I have yet to discover _how_, but you did. You have the power of the noble houses of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff fighting behind you. You have your Knight's Army, a group of the finest soldiers to have ever walked this earth. And you have the prophecy." Harry's eyes widened at the mention of Sybill's words - it was an unspoken rule that they not bring it up, save for when he had his dreams. However, Dumbledore did not look the slightest bit concerned. He only nodded his head sharply, gripping the King's face tighter with his leather hands. "Yes, the prophecy. You have it, and with it you have the knowledge to defeat him. _'He will have power the Dark Lord knows not.' _Remember that, Harry. You have power he can never have, power he does not even know of. Her words come true, you know they always do. I have not realized the value of this prophecy, the validity in it until now. We thought it we had vanquished it when we killed her, but even though it was incomplete the truth of it remains. You were meant to fight against him. He marked you as his equal," the wrinkled fingers brushed along the scar on his forehead as he spoke, trembling slightly. "But you have power beyond his own. You have the power to win.

"People are afraid, as they have every right to be. The realm is being shadowed in darkness, Your Grace." It was the first time his council had called him by the traditional address, and hearing the name in his creaking voice was enough to send a shiver down Harry's spine. "You heard the witch's prophecy. You know what is coming. We fight or we die, King Harry. There is no other way."

_We can fight_, Harry though to himself, _but we will die._

_We will all die._


End file.
